


you’ve given me a taste of home.

by yumapi



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Just good domestic ngmt, Kokona and chill, M/M, This originally started out as a drabble but I ended up extending on it orz, alt: how many headcanons can I fit into one short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 22:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17927804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumapi/pseuds/yumapi
Summary: “Oh, Mitsuki, thank you! We can watch Magikona and then, perhaps, share some kisses during the scary parts!”Mitsuki takes a second to process his words.“The scary parts. Of Magikona.”





	you’ve given me a taste of home.

”Where’s everyone else?”

Mitsuki waits until he finishes pouring his drink before answering, and although he briefly wonders if his boyfriend would like a cup as well, he figures that the blond would just drink from his anyways. “Tamaki and Iori left for school already, and that old geezer said he was gonna go out with Yaotome. Riku and Sougo are out buying groceries.”

Nagi hums thoughtfully. “So we’re alone.”

“So we’re alone,” he confirms, bringing his mug of coffee up to his lips.

“Wonderful! That means we can be as loud as we desire this time!”

Mitsuki chokes on his coffee, setting it down and earning an eyebrow raise from his boyfriend.

“Why, you are always so quick to jump to conclusions. I meant while marathoning the latest episodes of anime, of course! Unless... you had something else in mind?”

“No, nothing at all.” He replies, maybe a bit too quickly. “Let’s watch anime.”

There’s a sudden weight on his back, causing him to stumble forwards only for a second. An arm wraps around his waist — two, actually — that tug him closer to the other man.

“Oh, Mitsuki, thank you! We can watch Magikona and then, perhaps, share some kisses during the scary parts!”

Mitsuki takes a second to process his words.

“The scary parts. Of Magikona.”

Either he‘s pretending he didn’t hear, or he genuinely didn’t (both are equally as possible, honestly), because he’s already dragging him to the screening room. Part of him ponders whether or not he truly needs to get his lips ready for every single part that Nagi deems as ‘scary’. Surely, he couldn’t be that big of a scaredy cat, but he also wouldn’t put it past his boyfriend to feign fear in return for affection. After all, he is insistent on getting what he wants.

Yet on the other hand, days with just the two of them alone are sporadic and often spent doing chores, so maybe he does owe it to him to listen to his commands once in a while.

During their screening sessions, Mitsuki notices, there seems to be an unwritten list of rules — not because he joins in that often, but because he’s left to do the cleaning and setting up.

(Like how always need to keep one light on for Tamaki just in case, or how they evenly divide the limited space of the table for their own snacks in case Yamato’s beer cans decide to take over.)

He concludes that, as long as they lower the volume once the high schoolers go to sleep and that they close the door and keep it down, he’d be happy to tend to their entertainment needs. In a way, it’s already been engraved into their daily schedules whether he likes it or not.

“Mitsuki, please take a seat beside me.”

“Where else would I sit?” He retorts, but doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Nagi casually leans his body weight against his own smaller frame, face nestling against the crook of his neck. He sighs, grateful for the fact that at least his face is hidden from that angle.

(Because the last time Nagi saw him red faced, he had commented that “his expression reminded him of how they had fun last night”, which was utterly wrong as he was flustered the previous night because he had attempted to challenge a raccoon while taking out the trash. He, for one, was not having fun. On top of that, Iori couldn’t meet his gaze for the rest of the day, which he ultimately blames Nagi for.)

“Jerk,” Mitsuki mutters, allowing his head to tilt and rest on top of Nagi’s despite his affectionate insult. “Why am I always the human pillow.”

“Because! You’re soft and cute, and on top of that, light and probably easy to thr—“

“You can stop there.”

His hand feels around for the remote as he tries to ignore the vibrations against his neck. The familiar rhythm completely tunes out the need to hear the actual melody — it’s the magikona theme song, the one that he was cursed to listen to every time they decided to share earphones. It’s not like he minds it; if anything, he almost finds it a bit endearing. It’s something that makes him happy, and he’s willing to share it with the rest of the members in hopes of cheering them up as well. That in itself is something he adores about Nagi.

Sometime in between the duration it took for him to find the remote and turn on the tv, an arm had affectionately snaked around his waist. Nagi’s eyes were now glued onto the screen, fists balled with anticipation. There’s a commercial playing featuring Ryunosuke from Trigger, and although it wasn’t odd for them to be featured in programs, there’s always something exciting about seeing a friend on TV.

“Oh! My wig... snatched.”

Mitsuki’s face shrivels in disgust.

“I’ve picked up some new sayings from Tamaki lately!” The blond beams, seemingly proud of his achievement. “But don’t be jealous. You snatch my wig too.”

“I don’t want to.” The raise of a hand signals the end of the conversation, and he makes a mental note to tell Tamaki to ignore him when he asks about teen lingo. The two had grown quite close recently, for better or for worse.

It’s Mitsuki’s turn to rest his head on his shoulder, and he can practically feel Nagi’s smile radiating upon noticing the gesture. He smells pleasant, Mitsuki’s nose picking up traces of floral scents and a hint of vanilla. Nagi’s shoulders are broad, but rounded enough to make a comfortable pillow. It’s nice like this, he supposes, where he gets a chance to fully relax and put the idol stuff on hold. Sometimes he wonders how he’d meet the other members if not for the audition. Perhaps Riku would be a regular at the Fonte Chocolat, settling into a booth with a book or making small talk with the other customers. He can see Tamaki dropping by after school to buy treats for himself (or perhaps the other children at the orphanage). He’d definitely meet Yamato at a bar, wasted and probably driven to a hotel by poor Sogo after being found unconscious in the corner of a street.

And as for Nagi, he definitely seems like the type to hit on the cashier. Albeit cringey, its not completely out of the question to fall for him like that anyways.

Mitsuki isn’t a big believer in fate, per se, but he thinks that it would be nice if he were able to meet Nagi in every life. If not too much to ask, he’d like them to have a happy ending in each one as well.

“Mitsuki?”

He blinks, shifting his position so their eyes could meet. His expression softens, and he takes Nagi’s free hand with his own, giving it a squeeze. Whether or not these peaceful days last, he thinks, he’s grateful for the things that had already happened.

“What? I wasn’t thinking anything sad, so wipe that look off, would’ya?”

Nagi looks reluctant, but nods his head slowly as his focus returns back to the tv. He’s scarily observant, but sensitive enough to know when to prod into people’s troubles and when to back off. It doesn’t take long before the silence is replaced with his usual energy, ocean eyes widened with excitement.

It’s nice; the feeling of warmth and familiarity beside him, and most importantly, the exaggerated sound effects in the background. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> wrow
> 
> orz i actually didn’t revise this before posting it ... I’ll find time to do it eventually


End file.
